BugPolitik
Stanix is one of the rare places on Cybertron where beastformers and even Insecticons can be found walking the streets as free and unmolested individuals. Well, individual might be the wrong word given the alternately mindless and hive mind reputations of the planet's caretaker insects, but the noticeable lack of hive hunters is still to their advantage. As a refuge from the chaos and oppression spreading across the rest of the planet, it's attracted its fair share of the odd, the outcast, and the criminal, and glued them all together in the tight bonds of a primitive but free society fed by sprawling energon farms. In this place of all places a beastformer and an Insecticon should be able to pass with nary an odd look or unkind word - unless they're the same frame. Not quite seeming to belong wholly to either category, a femme of some kind is walking down the city's streets in the mid even dark. Precious few lights in the backwater polity offer illumination, making it the purview more of the nocturnal than diurnal, but the red-eyed mutt seems to know where she's going. To those fluent in the Insecticon tongue of wavespeech her gender is passively advertised along with a rather mixed signal; her origins are from the grand off-world hives of Animatron but she neither bears the subservience of a drone nor the regal trappings of a fully realized queen. In contrast, Zephyr is wholly Insecticon. Even in the relative dark, what little light is left will glance off the brilliant yellow of her wings as she flies in and makes a landing, not too far from the 'mixed bag' of a femme. Seconds later a pair of drones, almost identical to the 'leader' land as well, a short distance behind her. Pausing to look around, Zephyr takes stock of the situation. The bipedal bug-hound doesn't take immediate notice of the small queen's arrival. In addition to whatever low-light vision she has, the femme seems to have also brought her own flashlight. More visible in the dark, the air that pours out of her vents and exhaust pipes glows with the occasional yellow or reddish haze of waste heat or burning oxides. It leaves a distinctive but not wholly unpleasant odor in its wake, somewhere between a smelter, a race track, and the humid sweetness of a buried hive. It doesn't take Zephyr terribly long to spot the very odd femme. After all, she's bound to stand out wherever she goes with that mishmash of parts. Tilting her head one way, then the other, antennae twitching forward, she contemplates the oddity. Eventually sne approaches. "What manner of being are you?" she asks directly, in 'normal' Cybertronian speech; before she had come to the surface 20,000 years ago, she had practiced the speech very carefully, and even know it has the precision of someone who has had to learn a new language and wants to be certain to master it. At her question Overclock stops and looks down with red lenses of her own. There's a perturbation of her EMF in an insulted dislike that's invisible through the metal of her facemask, but the young Insecticon realizes soon enough whom she might be speaking to and tempers her field. "I'm an Insecticon same as you," she answers fluidly in an unhurried, natural drawl - a native accent. "Adapted for the surface world." Zephyr smiles faintly at this. "I was offered something similar at one point," she says. "I declined." She shrugs her shoulders. There's no judgement inherent in her tone or her gaze. "How are you finding it?" she inquires, curiously. Behind her, some distance, the pair of drones have spread out slightly and are standing watch. More or less. Unlike some Inseticons, created for hunting or fighting, Zephyr is a rather dainty specimen. So moving about, by herself, away from 'home' is unwise. Even to the stronger Queens and Seeders and entourage is a common luxury. With the brief time she's had since hatching, Overclock might just be assuming any Insecticon with friends is important. "The adaptations?" the beastformer asks, briefly staking stock of her systems. Though chimeric she doesn't appear hacked together at all and the different influences to her frame have managed to find a harmony together - if an unusual one. "They're useful." "Granted, I think they were considering something more vehicular, but this is how I was created, and this is how I plan to stay," Zephyr says resolutely. "To me, it seemed as though if I decided to change, it was making a statement that I was somehow, less, than the surface dwellers," she reasons. "But it may not seem that way to everyone." "Adaptus has infinite shapes. There's no reason to limit yourself if a better suited one is available, but it's not the role of the entire hive to change for every environment," Overclock reasons. Politely, she modulates her EMF in greeting in case the butterflycon would prefer the Insecticon's native tongue. Zephyr smiles faintly at this; after all, one can make so many claims, but it isn't everyone who can be tuned into the wavespeech. "While that is true, most of us would hardly pressume to be on the same level as Adaptus," she adds with a trace of humor to her tone. "What is your name?" she finally asks. Just like 'hollows', Insecticons come in a variety of personalities. This one seems to possess a straightforward one. "I am Overclock," the larger femme answers with a proud flex of her generator that adds a rumbling undertone to her words. "And who are you?" "Zephyr," is the prompt reply. "I came up from one of the deeper hives many years ago." Her antennae twitch forward, expression still generally curious as she looks the odd shaped femme over a little more closely. Overclock bows her head in a small show of deference. By her own appearance and scent she's likely much, much younger although it's hard to tell from the surface. With an ageless species, markers are hard to come by. (A pleasure,) she signals politely whether the butterflycon asks for it or not. (If you are from a deep hive... why speak Cybertronian?) (At the time, we were in a lot of trouble. We had been abused for long enough that hives closer to the surface were becoming quite feral, savage, and destructive. I feared that with this trend, it wouldn't be long before the surface dwellers moved to extermination. The prudent course, to avoid an all our war between the kinds, was to go to the surface and try to reason with the individuals there,) Zephyr explains. (But to show I wasn't a primitive, according to their 'standards' I was determined to speak their language clearly and fluidly.) She smiles. (I like to keep in the habit of it.) (It's for the best ... they can only speak ... Cybertronian back.) Beyond the realm of canned and common phrases, Overclock's own grasp of wavespeech seems to be more limited than Zephyr's; whether she understood the queen's entire message or not her own modulations are slow, but also accurate. Like Zephyr, clear communication is something she's studied... if only for a few dozen vorns so far. (Indeed. We all do what we must to survive, yes? I might not have changed my form, but I've made my share of...adaptations...to fit with people on the surface.) The fluttercon makes an off hand gesture with her hands. (Though if the fools in charge of the planet were really as wise and clever as they pretend to be, they wouldn't have had to fall to rationing their people. Their lack of understanding of our kind has caused them more trouble than they seem to realize.) (Fools describes them well,) Overclock agrees with a completely improper display of bitter distaste in her tone as emotions win out over manners. (If only wiping them clean weren't so expensive it might have been done by now. One senate and a Prime are like a Self-aware; give it a vorn and a new one rises from the hive if nothing seizes its place.) (However, we have the ability to take care of our own. They do not. And all their people are fully aware, and they cannot treat them with the dignity that we treat the least of us,) Zephyr says, with her own degree of venom. (Yet they call us primitives, when we seem to have a better grasp on the consequences of our actions. Or inactions.) (We are primitive by their standards,) Overclock notes. (They're sophisticated fools. The tangle of their society proves nothing...) (But even super-hives split,) she adds as her temper proves to burn like the glow from her exhaust, hot and fast. (Two Self-Awares in an entire hive are enough to cause conflict; up here everyone is.) (But we are often given the option to leave in such situations. I was the younger queen of a larger hive, and so I splintered. But it wasn't an issue because I left. Here, there isn't such an option. They must have the whole planet under a single set of thumbs, and nothing less will content them. They are greedy. It is their downfall,) Zephyr insists. That comment draws a pause from the taller femme and her systems quiet in thought. (Being isolated from a hive is... alone,) Overclock explains, trying to find an Insecticon expression for the state that isn't profane. (No one on the surface is connected like hives are, it's part of their weakness.) (True. That connection, it is a part of who we are. I could not imagine being otherwise,) says Zephyr thoughtfully. (Even if most drones are simple creatures, there is always that sense of being part of something beyond myself. Having a purpose and a responsibility inherant in who I am. These leaders, they have no connection with those beneath them. Nor do they seem to have any desire to cultivate one.) She frowns. (It is little wonder the people rebel.) (And the rebels have no connection upward,) Overclock affirms, a little relieved that she guided Zephyr to the thought despite a limited vocabulary. (A mess waiting to happen.) (You have an excellent grasp of the situation,) Zephyr says, though she doesn't comment on the other femme's slightly more limited vocabulary. After all, the slowness of language doesn't seem to have anything to do with intelligence. (It's a pity, really, because the hands of the few have reached out and spoiled the planet for the many.) (You flatter me,) Overclock replies with another bow of her head. That one comes out fluently. (The end of hotspots is... concerning, but one Insecticon spark can kindle a planetary hive. Maybe...) Here the beastformer trails off and her EMF demodulates from an ordered pattern before being restabilized. (Maybe Cybertron has enough resources yet.) (Perhaps. And maybe if they hadn't abused their resources they wouldn't be in such a predicament now,) Zephyr points out. (I doubt many of them can be made to see reason now, if they haven't been shown the error of their ways over the past several thousand years,) she adds dryly. (However, I am sure their time is limited.) (For an ageless species... we will see,) Overclock replies less assured. (They could waste many more resources before dieing out to a level that can be peacefully guided.) (That depends on how many people become willing to help them along to their end,) Zephyr says. (More makes it more expensive, less makes it slower,) the chimeric femme reasons negatively. There's another flicker in her field as she receives a relay through the hive network and her attention shifts from the political to Zephyr herself. (Which hive are you with?) She asks, again in a quick and formal tone from rote use. (My own hive is small, being a singular one, rather than a conglomerate of many self-awares,) Zephyr explains. (I have been working with the Decepticons since my first days on the surface. It is a relationship of convienience, but we have done well by each other so I plan on continuing it. Even if it's a little unusual for us.) (Be cautious of their duplicity and violence,) Overclock warns lightly. (But I'm sure you already know that of non-Insecticons.) (We may already be loose allies then,) she appraises with some cheer. The beastformer's EMF is expressive in all the ways her facemask doesn't allow her to be and by Insecticon standards she's fairly emotive. (Scorn's purpose is different, but as you said they are convenient.) (I have met Scorn a few times; she's a very mighty queen, stronger and wiser than myself. But, at the same time, she is not native. Our perspectives are somewhat different, though I accord her a great amount of respect,) says Zephyr. (Perhaps if I had met her first, things would have taken another course, but once I give my loyalty, it is given.) Her tone is adamant. (A commendable but dangerous trait,) Overclock nods. (Loyalty is readily abused on the surface... I wish you the best with that.) Offering another bow, the black femme turns her head down the street in a silent request for leave. (With little risk, there is little gain. I am loyal, but I said nothing about being blindly so,) Zephyr clarifies. With the bow, she inclines her head, antennae twitching upwards slightly. (Be well; give my regards to Scorn.) Overclock's field brightens in approval of the small queen's correction. (Of course, and I'm sure My Queen sends hers back.) Stepping aside to give Zephyr the berth due her status more than her size, the chimeric beastformer resumes her walk. With the chill of night it's a good time for the warm-oiled bug to be traveling.